Melsrayna stood frozen at the crossing between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. After saving, Cyrodiil from a certain Oblivion crisis, she couldn't imagine leaving the land that had become her home, but the Thalmar had driven her here; the last mostly free place to worship Talos. With that, it had brought its own troubles. The Thalmar were now here in force and threatening to bring the rest of Tamriel against the north; a country full of the most courageous men Mels knew, albeit most of the time they were drunk, enjoying their drink a little too much.

Her Wood Elf eyes looked back at Cyrodiil and she sighed heavily. Her long, brown hair blew back and forth in the chill wind, but she only hesitated briefly. Skyrim was the place she needed to be. It was the place, she could make a difference again and make things go back to the way they were. Talos was a God and the Thalmar had no business dictating who could and could not be worshipped.

The moment she stepped between what was Cyrodiil and Skyrim, she felt the burden of decision slide free from her. That was until she noticed a group of men hiding in the brush to her left. One of them caught her eye and motioned for her to join them. Mels only frowned at them and stayed her ground.

"Are ye daft?" one of them yelled over at her.

Mels turned from them. It was too early to decide anything yet. She was new to Skyrim and needed to discover information for herself. She couldn't risk forming an alliance with anyone yet, not without any of the facts. As she walked past them, she could feel their Nord eyes boring into the back of her skull. Suppressing a shudder, she continued forward. None of them mattered. She didn't know any of them and yet, she couldn't shake this feeling that something horrible was going to happen. In her many years of life, she had learned to rely on intuition. After all, it was how she survived Mehrunes Dagon.

One of them roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her around. Mels found herself staring into the eyes of a north man. His blue eyes met hers curiously. Shaggy blonde hair hung around his broad shoulders. In comparison, despite all Nords being tall, large people, as she was an Elf, he was a very large man, but she knew she could handle him if need be. She had handled much worse in the past. Besides, she never went anywhere without poison.

"I suggest you release me, young man," Melsrayna said through gritted teeth. She glanced down at his hand briefly and then back into his eyes. He seemed amused, but he did as he was told. "I have no quarrel with you and I suggest you leave it that way. Whatever this is and whatever you're planning, I will not get involved. Is that understood?"

The Nord laughed. His laugh was obnoxious. "You're the one who doesn't understand. By coming to Skyrim, you involved yourself." Mels raised a thin brow. Her hand inched toward the dagger at her side. "But have it your way. You'll soon find out for yourself."

The young Nord went back to his position. Melsrayna studied him once more before turning planning on going to Whiterun. She had heard that so far the town had retained its neutrality in this war that was brewing between the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks. That was where she was certain she could get unbiased information about what was happening here in what she had once thought of as a noble land.

She was maybe a hundred yards from them when she heard movement behind her. Mels assumed it was that same man, coming to try to convince her to join them. However, as she turned around, she was met by a surprise. Instead of a young Nord, she was facing a General of the Imperial Legion. From the look on his aged face, she knew this wasn't going to be good.

"Good day, sir," she said calmly. "My name is Me…"

"Seize her and grab the others," he ordered in a gruff tone. "They are all under arrest for treason. We shall take them to Helgen for execution."

"Wait,"' Melsrayna exclaimed trying to break free from the three men who had grabbed her to bind her feet and hands. "You're making a mistake. Just let me explain who I am."

"Lady, I don't care who you are. You were seen talking to these rebels. As far as I'm concerned you're one of them trying to worm her way out of punishment."

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Mels yelled as she elbowed one of the men who had grabbed her, jumped over the one knelt before her getting ready to bind her legs. She touched the general's shoulder. Several men came at her with swords drawn. All it took was one look to know that they meant to kill her then and there. "I'm the Champion of Cyr…"

She never got to finish her statement before the General punched her in the face, knocking her out cold. Melsrayna didn't see the sad look the young Nord who had first spoken to her gave her as he was led to the wagon where all of the prisoners were being detained for transport to a city that she only knew was named Helgen.

The general stood over her and rolled her onto her back with the tip of his boot. He was surprised to find a Wood Elf amongst these men who were whole heartedly tearing apart Skyrim with their incessant need to worship Talos. Whereas he didn't know how she fell in with these men or if she did at all, he told himself that she must be guilty of something.

"Put her with the others."

"Sir," Hadvar said staring down at the Wood Elf. The general nodded for him to continue. "Call me crazy, but I think she was going to say that she's the Champion of Cyrodiil."

The general looked down at the elf and laughed. "You're crazy, Hadvar. The Champion of Cyrodiil is long since dead. That was over two hundred years ago and no one has heard anything about her since then. This woman will say anything to get out of being punished. Make sure you don't listen to her lies."

"Yes, sir," Hadvar said.

General Tullius turned toward his soldiers with a small smile of victory. At long last, he had Ulfric Stormcloak in his grasp. He would savor every last breath the man made. As such, he knew that the man's death would come last. Ulfric was going to have to watch his men die because of his reckless nature before ultimately joining them. This was a great day for the Imperial Legion and an important step toward reuniting Skyrim with the empire. For this, his name would certainly go down in history.

"Move out men! We've wasted enough time." As he made his way to the head of the procession, he glanced once more at the Wood Elf, briefly wondering if her story was true. He shook his head, telling himself that he was getting as bad as Hadvar for believing such things. The Champion of Cyrodiil had died many years ago.